Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“You misunderstand me,” Bakhai said as the tent flap flew to one side and General Luggar rushed in.

“Him?” scowled the general as he drew his sword and held it to Bakhai’s chest. “Is he the one that poisoned the meat?”

“Put that sword away, Luggar,” snapped the premer. “Bakhai warned me about the poisoned deer. We will know soon enough if it is true.”

“Oh, it is true,” snarled Luggar, making no attempt to sheath his sword. “One of the butchers has already died. We weren’t sure what was happening until your message arrived. And just how does Bakhai know about the poison unless he is one with the enemy?”

“Preposterous,” scowled Cardijja. “Why would he warn us then?”

“Perhaps we should let him answer,” Luggar demanded stubbornly.

“That is what I was trying to tell you,” sighed Bakhai. “I am as Fakaran as anyone can be. I am all that General Luggar suspects that I am.”

Premer Cardijja sighed heavily and slumped into a chair. He looked sadly at Bakhai and then at Luggar who was just waiting for permission to shove his sword through the lad. For several moments the scene in the tent remained frozen. Finally, Premer Cardijja spoke softly but authoritatively.

“Put the sword away, General,” he ordered. “I will not ask you again.”

“But…” frowned the general.

“Away,” snapped Cardijja. “If you cannot follow my orders without question, then remove yourself from my tent.”

General Luggar reluctantly pulled his sword back and sheathed it. Cardijja tapped the chair beside him and indicated to Bakhai to sit down. The lad crossed the tent and sat obediently in the chair.

“Tell me why my enemy has come to warn me,” Cardijja demanded softly.

“The time for dying should be over,” answered Bakhai. “When I came to your camp, I learned that you are not the evil that the prophecy foretold. You and your men are my brothers. We should not be killing each other.”

“Prophecy?” questioned the premer. “What prophecy?”

“This invasion was foretold thousands of years ago,” explained Bakhai. “We knew that Vand would seek to reclaim Angragar. We have prepared for the day that evil from the Island of Darkness would arrive, but Vand is that evil, not you. You are just an unwitting tool.”

“And you plan to stop the fighting?” sneered Luggar. “How do you propose to do that?”

“By getting Premer Cardijja to surrender,” replied Bakhai. “There is no reason to die.”

“Why am I not surprised?” spat the general.

“No, Bakhai,” Cardijja shook his head. “My people will never surrender. We will fight to the death, and we will be victorious. If you stay by my side, I can offer you sanctuary. There is no need for you to perish, but we will conquer Angragar. That is a promise.”

“Do not promise what is beyond your grasp,” warned Bakhai. “Not a single one of your men will leave this valley. The Valley of Bones will be your graveyard as it was the graveyard of your ancestors. It does not have to end this way.”

“Preposterous,” retorted Luggar. “We have both ends of the valley secured. Your fellow horsemen will never even enter this valley. If they want to die, let them come.”

Bakhai sighed and shook his head at the general. Cardijja watched with curiosity.

“Tell me what you know, Bakhai,” urged the premer. “You are holding back.”

“I am not even supposed to be here,” Bakhai replied softly. “I came in a gamble to save your lives, but do not expect me to betray my brothers.”

“Then convince me that my cause is lost,” prompted the premer. “Maybe you can convince me to surrender.”

Bakhai knew he was being toyed with, but he sighed and nodded with the hope that he might succeed.

“You do not have this valley blocked off,” declared Bakhai. “We do. Send runners to each of the valley’s exits, but tell them to tread softly. I would not want them to die.”

Cardijja nodded to Luggar who stepped outside the tent and issued the orders that sent two runners off in different directions. He promptly returned inside the tent.

“The tribes are outside both ends of the valley,” continued Bakhai. “When the time is right, they will sweep in and finish you off.”

“Finish us off?” frowned Cardijja. “That is a mighty big aspiration.”

“It is right now,” agreed Bakhai, “but it won’t be in the morning. Tonight you will not only be attacked by elven arrows, but the Qubari and their poison darts will return, as will the tyriks.”

“Tyriks?” questioned the premer. “Who are the tyriks?”

“Not who, but what,” answered Bakhai. “The tyriks are the giant spiders that you encountered in the jungle.”

“You know about that?” gasped Luggar. “How is that possible?”

“I know everything that has happened to your army,” answered Bakhai. “None of it happened by chance. Every attack on you was well planned and meticulously executed. Tonight will be no exception.”

“Then your visit to our camp was no accident?” asked the premer.

“It was planned,” admitted Bakhai. “We had to find out if you knew where Angragar was. I was chosen for the task. I am the brother of the Astor.”

“And a valuable bargaining chip,” grinned General Luggar.

“Hardly,” Bakhai shook his head. “I was forbidden to come here tonight to talk to you. None of the others believe that you are ready to surrender. They feel that you must suffer more before you abandon your lust for death.”

“And why do you feel differently?” asked Cardijja.

“I wondered that for days,” sighed Bakhai. “I finally realized that you are no different than the Fakarans. You have this sense of duty to obey Vand, but you do not even understand what you are fighting for. If you knew the truth, you would not only abandon this war, but you would join our side and help rebuild Fakara.”

“A dreamer,” snarled Luggar. “You are too young to understand the ravages of war. We fight because we are destined to rule this wasteland.”

“Just as your ancestors fought a thousand years ago,” nodded Bakhai. “It is their descendants that you are trying to kill today.”

“What do you mean?” asked the premer.

“Vand left this land two thousand years ago,” explained Bakhai. “He suffered a terrible defeat after defying God. He vowed to return and destroy everyone. A thousand years later, thousands of Motangans fled from Vand’s rule. They came back here and tried to conquer the land. They succeeded to some extent, but today both peoples have joined forces to defend our lands against the evil of Vand. For thousands of years, everyone has suffered as Vand pitted brother against brother. Don’t you think it is time for it to stop? Or are you still determined to sacrifice your life and the lives of your men for a single man consumed by hatred?”

“Vand is not an ordinary man,” snarled Luggar. “He is a god.”

“He was a priest of Kaltara before he was seduced by the demon, Dobuk,” corrected Bakhai. “He is no god, and he will be defeated by the Three. It is foretold that the Star, the Astor, and the Torak will stand against Vand. They will defeat him. Don’t you want to live to see it?”

Two runners burst through the tent flap. Everyone looked up with anticipation of the report.

“Both ends of the valley are covered with huge spider webs,” reported one of the soldiers. “The men are panicking.”

“Go calm them down, Luggar,” ordered Cardijja. “Restore order to this camp.”

Luggar started to object, but the premer’s face was set with determination. The general left the tent with the two soldiers.

“You have risked your life to come here and warn me,” Cardijja said softly to Bakhai. “You must have known that you would die for your efforts. Why did you come?”